


Trains

by weddingbells



Category: Stereo Kicks (Band)
Genre: AU, Fluff, M/M, disgustingly fluffy tbh, missing trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weddingbells/pseuds/weddingbells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not Tom's fault he misses that train. It turns out to be quite a good thing though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aimmyarrowshigh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/gifts).



> Here I am writing Tomclay because people (*cough* V *cough*) asked me too and honestly I love Tomclay so here you go. No smut so sorry but gross fluff to keep you going for a bit.

Tom is late for his train. It’s _not_ his fault, it’s his alarm’s fault, it’s the fact that he got distracted by the new Candy Crush game while eating breakfast and it’s also the freezing weather’s fault. The usual five minute walk to the train station takes _double_ the time now when he has to watch his every step to make sure he’s not slipping and dying. Okay, dying might be a bit much but _at least_ ending up with a broken leg. Or something remotely close. All in all, it’s not _Tom’s_ fault that he is late. Actually, he is even sure that the train departs too early. He runs into the station, tickets in hand and arms flailing, hoping that by some miracle he can get the train to stop and come back to pick him up as well.

It doesn’t, and he should have known. He curses loudly though, kicking a trash can just in pure frustration before running his hands through his hair. The next train leaves in 45 minutes. _45 minutes._ That’s just not cool at all. He’s going to end up getting late to work, Simon will bite his head off basically and he will probably get the lost hours taken off his pay check and he won’t have those extra quids to spend on Christmas presents like he had planned to. Everything _sucks_. He is about to go get a coffee just to cheer himself up, even though it seems impossible considering this day has already started off like crap, when he hears a soft voice.

“Did you miss the train too?”

Tom looks up, meeting soft, big, dark eyes, belonging to a tall male that _hello_ , sports a nice looking body with a perfect outfit, looking way, _way_ too much of a model to be one to miss trains together with Tom. Tom looks like a mess. He ignores that though, too lost in those eyes to think about his own shortcomings. He wonders if the boy has those eyes that changes color easily in different lights or in different moods. He hopes so. He looks like that kind of boy.

It takes him a couple of moments of staring to realize that the handsome stranger actually did ask a question and Tom is right now only staring at him like an idiot. He clears his throat, hoping the faint blush spreading on his cheek will be easy to blame on the chilly winds.

“Uh, yeah. Not my fault. Such a tosser morning really.” He replies, hoping his voice is steady, cool and at least a bit as charming as the gorgeous, god-like stranger who Tom is sure is the best thing to happen to him this morning. Probably will be the best thing to happen to him all day, as he discretely tries to let his eyes wander over his body, checking him out without it being obvious and wow, _every_ part of him is just perfect.

Nothing is as perfect as his smile though, a smile now spreading on his lips as he listens to Tom.

“I feel you, I had the same kind of morning. Disaster really. Could have figured I’d miss the train, don’t even want to think about how late I will be for work.”

“Same, man.” Tom sighs, realizing he should probably introduce himself. “I’m Tom, by the way.”

“Barclay.” The stranger, no, _Barclay_ , says with another smile, reaching out a hand to shake. Tom can’t even believe this. _Barclay_. As perfect and amazing name as the way this guy looks. His parents did an A+ job.

“Barclay.” He repeats, just wanting to feel how the name sounds, and how it is to say it like this. It feels nice. “I was going to get myself some coffee, you want some?”

“I’d love some coffee.” Barclay agrees, smiling again as he fixes the scarf around his neck, as fashionable as the rest of him. “You seem to have great ideas, Tom.”

“You know, great ideas are what I’m known for.” Tom muses, it’s really not true at all, but Barclay doesn’t have to know that and _anyway_ , he agrees to go get coffee and that’s nice. If it wouldn’t be absolutely crazy of him, Tom might actually consider this a first date. Only no, but if he _did_ allow himself to sometime, he would think of it as a date, even though he probably won’t ever see Barclay again after this cup of coffee and train ride.

The thought is a bit too depressing to get caught in, so Tom ignores it as well, instead he reads the menu to see if the coffee shop at the train station has any kind of fancy coffee that he wants to taste, or if he should just go with a regular tall coffee.

“I think you can tell a lot of a person from how they take their coffee.” Barclay comments as they line up, there’s only a couple of people before them. Tom glances over at him, arching a brow with an amused smile.

“Really? How so?”

“I don’t know, I just feel like it does. Like those that take their coffee with no milk, no sugar, they are usually stressed or tired. Those that take their coffee with milk seems… softer. And with sugar, they are sweet. Or, they just like sweet things. I tend to think people that take sugar in their coffee are sweet anyway.”

Barclay’s voice is so soft and so gentle and _god_ , Tom wonders what it sounds like in other situations than this, wonders what Barclay sounds like in the mornings, or late at night, or after being kissed breathless and… he needs to stop. He _really_ needs to stop. He is developing a crush on someone he’s just met just for the way they look and talk, he doesn’t do that. _Usually_.

He does however think that maybe for once he should order coffee with sugar. Maybe.

Barclay tells the barista his order first, he orders one of those coffee drinks that seems to be more syrup and cream than actual coffee, and Tom wants to roll his eyes because usually he would give someone ordering something like that a speech on how they need to learn how to drink _actual_ coffee, but he doesn’t want to do that now. He feels like Barclay can drink whatever he wants to drink, as long as he drinks it with Tom. Tom orders the largest coffee they have, asking for a pack of sugar a bit discreet when Barclay has turned around with his drink. He doesn’t want it to be obvious what he’s doing; he’s never been good at the whole flirting thing but at least he can tell when he will end up looking ridiculous.

“Wanna sit somewhere?” Barclay asks, and Tom loves how it’s so easy for them both to just go with the other, as if they actually knew each other. They don’t, they far from know each other but it doesn’t seem to matter. He nods happily.

“Yes sure, maybe somewhere where the wind isn’t as chilly.” He says with a little grin and then leads Barclay to a couple of plastic seats that are at least under roof and doesn’t look too cold to spend some time on. Sipping his coffee as they sit down, Tom turns to look at Barclay, wondering just how much he can ask about him without sounding too… creepy.

“So, where are you from, you live in town?” Barclay asks, thankfully starting the question game before Tom does which makes him happy because now _he_ can ask questions later and know that Barclay is okay with it.

“Yeah, moved here the second I moved away from home, and I’ve been living here ever since.” He says with a nod, carefully still sipping his coffee, he doesn’t want to get a burnt tongue. “What about you?”

“Pretty much the same.” Barclay said with a shrug. “Tried out a career of yodeling but that didn’t work out so now I’m here, it’s okay, I love my job anyway and maybe I’ll take up yodeling some other time.”

Tom snorts, waiting for Barclay to tell him he’s joking, but it never comes.

“Wait, you’re serious?” He meets Barclay’s eyes. “Honestly… _yodeling_?”

“Don’t laugh.” Barclay warns him with glittering eyes. “I was actually quite good.”

“Yodeling sounds cool.” Tom says, and he is honest, even though he isn’t sure how you ever could get a career in yodeling. “More cool than marketing, that’s what I do.”

“My ex-boyfriend thought it was lame.” Barclay rolls his eyes before he drinks some more of his coffee drink. Tom actually has to grab hold of the seat to not jump to his feet and do a little dance as Barclay mentions an ex-boyfriend. Not only a boyfriend, but an _ex_ one, meaning Barclay obviously is into boys but probably, hopefully, _single_.

Not that anything they are doing here could lead to anything else, Tom shouldn’t get his hopes up, but at least he is not casually trying to flirt with a boy who has got a boyfriend waiting at home for him to come back. He is a bit surprised though, a face like Barclay’s should have at least five boyfriends. At least.

Tom is not going to say that though, or suggest it, because if Barclay is single that is great. It’s really, _really_ great.

“Sounds like your ex-boyfriend is lame.” Tom says instead of saying anything else. “But they often are. My ex-boyfriend is probably even lamer.”

His ex-boyfriend is actually kind of nice, but it feels like he needs something to add to this conversation and it’s the only thing he can come up with. It probably makes him the lamest. Barclay smiles at that, Tom hoping that the smile is a bit due to the fact that they both outed themselves now, casually. He hopes so.

“Tell me more about you.” Barclay says finally, and then it’s on.

The next 30 minutes Tom is telling Barclay everything there is to know about him, and he also finds out pretty much everything that is to know about Barclay. All of it just as lovely as Barclay looks, and Tom isn’t sure how Barclay is even real. But he is, and Tom hasn’t made him up because as they both walk up to drop their empty cups in the bin, their arms bump together and Barclay’s arm feels firm and nice and Tom has to spend a couple of minutes just thinking about what it’s like to fall asleep with those arms wrapped around you. It’s probably really nice. Really nice. And Tom should probably not spend so much time thinking about it considering they don’t even know each other. And soon they will both be on their way.

But when the voice calling out departures and arrivals mentions that their train will be there in 5 minutes, Tom isn’t even imagining it, he is sure he isn’t the _only_ one being a bit disappointed by the fact that there’s soon only a 15 minutes train ride left of their time together. Barclay’s eyes look a bit sad and _yes_ , they do go a shade darker as they look sad, Tom was right, Barclay is one of those people.

Tom loves those people.

He especially loves that Barclay looks disappointed and he is pouting a little as he is watching the display with the name of the train, counting down the minutes until it will depart. Tom wonders what that pouty lip tastes like. Probably a bit like coffee. Maybe sweet. Tom probably won’t find out.

“Well, this is our train.” Tom decides to say finally, shoving his hands down his pockets. “I guess we survived that wait, didn’t we?”

“That we did.” Barclay says with a smile. “Thanks for keeping me company, made this morning a lot better. You’re quite lovely to be around.”

Tom’s heart does _not_ flip as he hears that. Not at all.

“You too.” He breathes out instead, hoping no one can tell how happy that made him.

“Kind of wish we had another 45 minutes.” Barclay mumbles, it’s loud enough for Tom to catch and even if he didn’t hear it, he could read it off Barclay’s lips because he is looking straight at Tom as he says it, he isn’t even trying to hide it.

Tom wasn’t the only one thinking these 45 minutes were absolutely lovely.

“Me too.” He agrees, and then before he has time to even react and think how this is all turning out to be some sappy Christmas movie and how things like this doesn’t even happen for real, Barclay is moving closer, closing the distance between them and soon his lips are on Tom’s.

He _does_ taste like coffee, but he also tastes like cinnamon. Tom doesn’t know why. He tastes like Christmas. Like good things, and his lips and the way he kisses Tom is soft just like all of him, _god,_ Barclay is so soft and tender and gentle and Tom doesn’t want to let go. He closes his eyes, letting his hand cup Barclay’s jaw as he kisses him back, and he can almost feel the way Barclay is smiling into the kiss, smiling against Tom’s lips.

Tom has to smile as well. He is still smiling when they pull away from each other’s lips, both a bit reluctant to. But Barclay is still smiling as well when their eyes meet, and Tom has to chuckle. The whole situation is a bit bizarre.

“Just so you know, I don’t usually do this.” Tom feels the need to say, and he is still smiling, honestly he isn’t sure he will ever stop smiling. “Kiss strangers at train stations. I usually get to know them a bit more first. Although we did spend quite a lot of time finding out stuff about each other.”

“We did.” Barclay nods, and his hand are still on Tom’s back, he seems to want to keep it there and Tom doesn’t want him to move it.

The train is arriving, doors opening and they have to get on though, Barclay leading Tom to the closest pair of doors.

It has started to snow, white flakes swirling around them and Tom has a gorgeous boy next to him, still feeling his lips and his hand are still on his lower back, and it’s all nice.

“Remind me to ask you for your number.” Tom comments as they find seats, sitting down next to a bunch of school kids on a field trip. “I don’t want to forget that, I will feel like an idiot if I do.”

“Can’t have you feeling like an idiot.” Barclay smiles again, and Tom wonders if it’s extremely wrong to rest his head in the crook of Barclay’s neck as the train start moving. Wonders if Barclay will push him away.

Then Barclay’s arm wrap around him, pulling him in and Tom melts into him, head so easily resting on his shoulder as if he has spent years figuring out how to fit perfectly against Barclay.

If Tom had known this is what happens when your mornings start off as shit and you miss your train, he would have missed his train _ages_ ago.

 


End file.
